I Wish
by NatalieRB
Summary: PatientNo.173D, Isabella Swan. Ward 3. Just because I’m dying it doesn’t mean I need anyone to buy me flowers or send me get well soon cards. Because I won’t get well soon, whether you send me a card or not. I just want to complete my wishes. EXB OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note; **This is a very sensitive subject. I just thought I would do this to see how people read it. I also was reading a rape story, and that is a sensitive subject too, so why not this? Just give it a try, people. Y'all tell me what you think. T for now, could be put higher - I have a plan but being the scaredy cat I am, I might chicken out.

**Song; We Are Broken, Paramore.**

**Full Summary; **Patient No. 173D, Isabella Swan. Ward three. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. Just because I'm dying it doesn't mean I need anyone else to buy me flowers or send me get well soon cards. Because I won't get well soon, whether you send me a card or not. I just want to complete my wishes.

People say that love conquers all. But in all honesty, does it? Can it make all of your dreams come true? Can it rise above all of your demons? Can it beat death? AU AH OOC E/B.

**Disclaiming; **No, the characters are not mine.

**Wishes**

_Preface_

_Just Because You Love Me Doesn't Mean I Have To Love Me Too._

"You know, you should eat something." He said, spooning the horrid green paste onto the plastic fork, and thrusting it into my hand.

"Why should I?"

"Because I said so."

"Okay, _mum. _I will eat this when you do." I said, rolling my eyes. I giggled slightly at his horrified expression, and I was delighted that I had finally won an argument. "See!" I practically yelled, clapping my hands. "I win! Finally I won against Edward!"

"Its not my fault it looks like green shit." He mumbled, putting the fork down onto the tray and pushing it away. "If you tell me what you want I'll run down to the take-out and get it." He whispered, edging closer towards me.

"Get me what you get yourself." I whispered back, kissing him on the lips.

He leapt up, putting his shoes back on. I don't even know why he felt the need to take them off. He kissed me on the lips again, feather light, leaving me dazed and told me he would be back in half an hour. He winked at me as he walked out of the door, and I blew him a kiss.

Sometimes being with Edward was too easy. I needed him like I needed water or air. He was like and umbrella that followed me in the rain, and an open fire in the dead of winter. When he wasn't there I didn't feel complete, and I felt myself get worse. I felt my bones turn to jelly and my brain into mush. He helped me fulfil most of my things written on my wall. He was like my safety harness when rock climbing or my safety mask in an aeroplane. He was like my wheelchair if both legs were broken and he was like my warm pillow at night. He was like my duvet; soft and light, cool and soothing. Needless to say, he was my saviour.

Sure, Alice was all of those things, to an extent. There was only so many shoes a girlfriend can fill and a boyfriend can't, and vice-versa. There was no way I could say that I loved him more, but I loved him in a different way.

I didn't understand why everyone kept telling me to eat. I was sat in a stingy hospital bed, fed stingy hospital food, and they all wonder why I am not eating. I hated hospital food. But there were other reasons. I was dying anyway, so why bother eating? It just left a horrible taste in my mouth and went straight through me.

I had the bed opposite a small little window that looked out onto green and red leaved trees. I stared at it for a while, waiting for any signs of movement minus the howling of winds. Every time the wind blew, a few leaves would fall off the trees and fly into the distance, leaving the others behind.

A tiny little bird eventually perched onto one of the smaller branches, and I could see its chest heaving. I longed to know if it was singing, but it was too far away to hear. No matter how hard I strained my ears, I got the same ringing noise, pounding throughout my head. I did contemplate getting up and shuffling towards it, but I knew I either wouldn't be able to make it over there, or the bird would see me coming and fly away.

I hated not being able to walk much. It made me feel as if I were an old lady; like I needed a Zimmer frame. I wanted my independence back. I wanted to be able to go and get my own food; not have to get Edward to do it.

Edward had done so much for me. So had mum. So had Alice. Even when I was a bitch, they would just brush it aside and carry on. I didn't deserve them at all.

When Edward came back, he held a white bag in his hand. The smell of the food hit me so hard; like I was being hit by a car. Like I had my insides ripped from me. It was like my heart was bursting. The smell invaded my nose and went to the back of my throat, and no matter how hard I coughed the stench wouldn't budge. My stomach retched, and I couldn't stop the bile from rising in my throat.

I could hear people shouting my name. I could hear Edward asking me if I was okay, what was wrong. I wanted to talk to him; I wanted to calm down the panicked tone of his voice. I wanted to soothe him, to tell him I was fine. I couldn't do anything but close my eyes and feel my legs become soaked under the thin blanket. The smell of my sick hit me worse than the food, causing another round to start.

I felt a cool hand on the back of my neck, gathering the thin hair there. I felt a cold pressure on my legs, and another hand pushed my back forwards. Tears were trickling down my face as I felt my heartbeat quicken.

I could hear it on the monitor beside me; the rate of my heart. It sounded like a helicopter about to take off. It felt like my heart was on fire inside of me. The beeping continued to raise its tempo, and I couldn't feel my arms anymore. They had gone numb, and my toes were soon becoming numb too. It was only a matter of time before sweat joined my tears, falling relentlessly down my face as I continued to soak the whole bed in the most putrid way.

**End Preface.**

**Authors note; Love it? Hate it?**

**Let me know if I should continue.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note; **Woah. The preface wasn't on for more than fifteen minutes and I already had three reviews! Thank you! I'm glad y'all liked it. I was a little worried at first that people would be upset etc, but posted anyways since there are abuse stories, rape stories out there, too. I feel really… elated that so many people like it! Oh, and in advance, I know the chapters are short. Being only fourteen, I work in short doses. Sorry, guys. :(

**What illness does Bella have? – I have an idea, but I am yet to research it properly etc. Give me time. In the meantime, use your imagination and I would like to know you're guesses. :)**

**Song: She Had The World, Panic! At The Disco.**

**Disclaiming; **No, twilight isn't mine.

**I Wish**

_One_

_We Need To Get a New Kettle, Mum._

I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he had buttons on him so that I could turn him on whenever I wanted. I wish he would look at me as if I was beautiful and I wish he would tell me that he loved me. I wish he would do anything for me. I wish that he would whisper how much he loved me. I wish that he would look at me in the eyes as he took off his top and unbuckled his jeans. I wish that I wasn't in my bed alone. I wish that he would creep into my room at night and I would fall to sleep in his arms. I wish that I wasn't dying.

I got up and stumbled around in the darkness. My hands searched for the light switch, and I snapped it on, blinking at the sudden brightness.

"Shit." I said as I rubbed my eyes, trying to adjust them.

I walked over to my bedside table and rummaged around for a piece of paper and pen. I found a pen, but I couldn't find any paper.

"Shit."

I searched deeper into the draw, still with no luck. I held the pen in my hand, looking around my room for any sign of paper. I found none. I lay back down, leaving the light on, thinking whether or not to go downstairs and get a piece of paper. I imagined two sides; for and against. If I went downstairs I might wake mum up. If I didn't I would never get a piece of paper. Then a thought came to me. I sat back up again, moaning as my bones clicked at the sudden movement.

I swivelled around so that I was facing the wall. I took the cap of the pen off, smiling as I saw that it was a thick, black marker. I scrawled onto the wall that I wanted a boyfriend, and that I wanted to feel the weight of him on top of me. Not bothering to look at the clock, I continued to scribble down as much as I could.

_I wish I was famous. I want to go on a rollercoaster, and I want to be sick afterwards. I wish I __earned__ twenty dollars, doing some hard work outside of home. _

I underlined earned several times. Mum would usually just give me money, but I wanted to feel as if I had worked hard for it.

_I want to sleep outside in a tent in the summer. I wish I had a laptop. I want to listen to music for a whole day. I wish someone would slap me. I want to play a sport. I want to write a book. I hope it gets published. I wish I could go to college. I want to read three books in one day. I want to drive a car. I want to get lost. I want to be found. I want to do something crazy. I want to hug a stranger. I want to get drunk. I want to try drugs other than my medicine. I want to say yes to everyone. I want to have a big party. I want to hold a newborn baby. I want to watch the whole series of Supernatural over and over again. I wish I could fly. I want to run for five minutes straight. I want to wake up with a boy next to me. I want to visit dad. I want a tattoo. I want to have sex. I want to try lobster, and I want to hate it. I want to learn French properly. I want to learn sign language. I want to hold mum's hand. I want to have a bigger room. I want to go to a concert. I want to teach some little kids something new. I want Alice to be there when I die. I wish I would die quickly. I hope no one misses me too much._

I didn't care that some of them were impossible, or that some of them were stupid. I just wrote down everything that I was thinking. It was only about an hour later when I heard the feet of my mum padding down the hallway, and eventually her knuckles knocking lightly on my door.

"Come in."

"Hello, sweetheart. What are you doing up?"

"Nothing." It's not that I didn't want her to see, but I didn't think she would want to see. Some of it she might not like.

"What have you been writing?"

"Things I want to do."

"Can I see?"

"Okay." I shuffled over and she sat beside me, looking intently at my rushed, messy writing.

After a while she leaned back and looked at me. She had tears in her eyes, and smiled at me.

"Sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

"Why?"

"I don't know, really." She laughed at me, and I smiled.

"Do you really want to do all of these things?" I shrugged, not sure what the answer was. Maybe some of them were a little childish.

"I'm sure you could." She said, before kissing me on the cheek and walking out, turning the light off as she went.

I lay back down in my bed, asking myself if I _really _did want to do all of those. Some of them I did, some of them I didn't mind. I really did want someone it slap me. I wanted someone to treat me as if i wasn't going to break. I wanted to do something really naughty; so bad that someone slap me for it.

When I woke up again, it was so dark. It scared me how dark it was, but then I looked at my clock. It was four o'clock, and I laughed at the way my heart beat got faster at the darkness. I knew I wouldn't get back to sleep again, so I got out of bed and carefully, slowly, silently walked down the stairs.

Surprisingly, I managed to get to the bottom without falling over or making too much noise. I wondered if I would have been able to do that when I needed paper earlier, but I decided the answer was that I wouldn't. I would have found something to fall over. I slowly walked into the kitchen, looking at all of the darkened silhouettes of the utensils. I debated whether or not to boil the kettle, but instead I poured myself a glass of water. I walked into the living room, plopping down onto the sofa. I just looked ahead of me, staring at the wall above the out of date fireplace.

I sighed, and reached over to the phone. I picked it up and dialled Alice's number.

"Hello?" She mumbled. I smiled; she sounded tired. I loved Alice so much.

"Hi Alice."

"Hey babe, you okay?" That's something else I loved about her; when she asked if you were okay she actually sounded as if she meant it.

"I'm okay. I just wanted to see what you were doing." She laughed loudly, and I giggled too.

"Well, considering the time, I was sleeping, as you should be."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, honey. Have you spoken to your mum?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. Do you want me to come over later?"

"Yes please." I wanted to be with someone other than my mum.

"I will be over by nine. I love you."

"You too."

I placed the phone back in its cradle and regretted not boiling the kettle. I got up and went back into the kitchen, flicking the kettle switch on. The kettle was noisy and took a while to finish, but I needed something warm to hold onto.

The kettle finished, and I carefully poured half a cup of tea, knowing that I wouldn't drink a full cup. As I filled the cup up the tea bag floated, and turned the clear water into a muddy brown. It reminded me of dirty lakes and muddy puddles. Suddenly, I didn't feel like drinking it anymore.

Instead of pouring it down the sink, I finished making it and took it with me into the living room again. I sat down, careful not to spill any, and went back to staring at that place on the wall opposite. I wrapped my hands around the mug and closed my eyes at the warmth against my cold hands.

I always seemed to be cold. I was cold on my hands and my feet and sometimes my forehead, but the rest of my body was either warm or very hot. My body didn't seem to be able to make up its mind. I wish I could be hot or cold; not in between. I considered getting a hot water bottle for my feet, but then I realised that I didn't know where it was. I think it was in my mum's room, and I didn't want to disturb her again.

I didn't see why I didn't just die already. I was diagnosed when I was thirteen, and I'm seventeen now. I was given six months to live, and I'm still here. They say that I will get better, but I have only been getting worse. When I was first diagnosed my mum didn't look tired; she looked healthy. Now she looks dead. I have literally sucked the life out of her.

If I wasn't going to die, why wasn't I getting better? I wanted to go back to school. I got taken out of school about eight months before I was diagnosed, because I was getting bullied. My hair was thinning out, and I looked pale, but it didn't give my mum enough reason to take me to the doctor. The kids at school told me I had a disease, and that I looked like a freak.

All of the friends I did have left with the popular group, and I wasn't learning anything anymore. My mum took me out of school and promised me that she would home school me, but then I was diagnosed, and there was no point in trying to learn anymore. But now I wanted to go back because we had a new neighbour who goes there, and I wanted to see what they looked like. I never saw them walking around because I didn't usually go out. I wanted to go because Alice was at school now.

I met Alice when I was in hospital for the first time. She had been in a car accident and was put in the bed next to mine because there were no more beds on the accident and emergency ward. Even though she had been in an accident, she was happy. When I first became friends with her I started to get a little better, because I was happier and that sent good hormones around my body, which told my body I was better and gradually got me better. It was a long process, and only lasted a few weeks after meeting Alice. After that I got worse, but Alice didn't leave me like the others did. She came round practically everyday.

Alice was always with a boy. She would come back to my house after going out somewhere and tell me about a cute boy she saw, but she would always tell me that he wasn't 'the one'. I wanted to see cute guys and dance with them like she did. I wanted guys to look at me and think that I was attractive and not horrific like I knew they did.

I would have to tell Alice that we needed to get a new kettle when she arrived. She would want a hot drink, and was used to the fancy one that took ten seconds which she had at home. Ours took at least one minute.

I turned to look at the clock which was sat next to the phone, and was surprised that it was six already. I turned my attention back to the cup in my hands and realised that it was stone cold. I wrinkled my nose, and got up to the kitchen, pouring it down the sink.

I took to the stairs again, not worried about being quiet. I stood on the landing, listening for any footsteps coming from mum's room. When I heard none, I knocked on the door.

"Bells?" She sounded tired, and I instantly felt guilty for waking her up. I slowly opened the door, silently telling her that I was coming in. When the door was open wide she smiled at me, and I crawled into bed beside her.

"I love you mum." I whispered as she put an arm around me.

We lay like that for a while. I loved the feeling of being warm all over.

Sometimes I felt like a five year old when I thought of how much I loved hugging my mum. She was always so warm, and made me feel so secure. As if I was going to be fine, and as if I would get better. She would hold me as if she didn't want to let go. Is it weird for a seventeen year old to still love hugs from their mum?

Alice gave me hugs all the time, but they weren't the same. They were Alice hugs. She would hug me around the waist, because she was about a head smaller than me. I would play with her hair, and she would close her eyes. She was gentler when she hugged me, but I think that she was scared to hurt me. When Alice was hugging me it was about the only time she was quiet.

We must have lain like that for a long time, because when I moved slightly, my bones creaked and I felt sore all over. I rolled my head around, trying to loosen my neck, but it just clicked and hurt more than originally. I lifted my arms straight in front of me, trying to get the blood pumping. Mum took her hand away from my shoulders as I did the stretches Angela had taught me.

Angela was my home nurse. She was very young for a nurse, only about twenty three or so, and she was amazing. Looking after me was a pretty full time job, and she never complained. She always had a smile on her face, even if we called her at midnight. She would always tell me that it was her job.

After moving my legs around a bit I took my position back beside mum, and she put her arm back around me.

**End Chapter.**

**Authors note; Hey. Like it? Love it? Hate it? Lemmie know. Oh, and for people reading Behind Closed Doors: writer's block. We all get it, right?**

**Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note; **Hey man. I've never had so many reviews for just two chapters! But what happened guys? Seventeen just for the preface, but down to seven for chapter one? *shrugs* Don't think I don't appreciate it though! God no! I just hope you like it. If you don't review, that makes me think you don't like it. ENJOY!

**Song: Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, The Smiths.**

**Disclaiming; **Yet again, twilight isn't mine in any way shape or form.

**I Wish**

_Two_

_I Don't Care What You Think, I Like My Clothes._

"So, honey, what are we doing today?" Mum asked me after a long silence.

"Alice is coming over in about two hours."

"Is she? Oh good; I haven't seen her in a while. Does she like pancakes?"

"Yes."

"Go and get dressed then." She said, unwrapping her arm from around me and getting up from her bed. I got up too, and headed for my room.

I wasn't sure what to wear for the day. Most of the time I stayed in my pyjamas, not bothering to change. I picked out a pair of jeans and a top I don't remember buying. Not that I bought most of my clothes anyway; mum would just ask me if I had grown out of my last lot – or usually they would be too big for me; I have been constantly loosing weight - and buy me plain blue jeans and tops. They would sometimes have a design on them, but most of the time they were just plain colours. I don't know why, but I was feeling warm, so I chose a brown top. Mum knew that she should buy my tops two sizes too big, because I didn't like the ones that clung to me, and I was too skinny. I have read some of the magazines that Alice reads, but I find most of them disgusting. The young girls go on about their quest to be skinny, when I just wish I could put on some weight. I hated the way my ribs stuck out.

That's another reason why I would never get a boyfriend. They would be horrified by my body. I don't think I would even be able to undress in front of a boy because I wouldn't want them to run away after seeing me. My legs were like sticks, as if they could break any day. I'm sure this was true, but I didn't want to test it.

I didn't bother looking at myself in the mirror; I just tied up my hair and walked down the stairs.

I was surprised to see Alice already sitting at the counter in the kitchen, watching mum make pancakes. I looked at the clock and saw that it was only quarter past seven. She turned to face me and giggled at my expression; I guess I looked surprised.

"I couldn't wait to see you." She told me, coming over to greet me with a hug. I hugged her back with all I could, hoping to show how grateful I was to see her. She grabbed my hand and took me to where she was sitting a moment ago, and sat me in the seat beside her.

"How have you been?" She asked, digging into the plate of steaming pancakes set in front of her.

"I've been okay." I said, picking at my plate.

"Eat." She urged. I rolled my eyes at her but held the fork tighter and faced my plate properly. I could feel two pairs of eyes on me, but did my best to ignore them. The eyes left me once I had taken two bites, seeming satisfied.

I lifted my head again, looking at Alice and what she was wearing. Alice was never one to do things by halves, that's for sure. She wore a pair of black skinny jeans with a very vibrant pink blouse that was ruffled around her neck. She always looked good though; that's another reason why I didn't go out, especially with Alice. I looked bad enough already, without having to stand next to Alice all day.

Even at the early hours of the morning she looked like she had just stepped out of a catwalk. She had pale skin, not as pale as mine, but still pale, and long brown hair. Her eyes were wide and a very soft brown, but they seemed to change from brown to yellow to green every day.

My mum loved Alice. My mum would love any friend of mine. The only thing she didn't like about Alice was the things she did. She wasn't inexperienced when it came to drugs and alcohol, but my mum was happy as long as Alice didn't force me into anything, which I knew she would never do. Although both were on my list, and I was sure Alice could help me out. I knew she wouldn't be happy about it, but I also knew she would do it anyway.

After we ate breakfast, pretty much in silence, Alice told me that she was going to give me a make over.

"Why?"

"Because I hate your clothes." She said, looking me up and down. I sighed, knowing that it was going to come sooner or later.

"You don't have to wear them."

"Yea, but I have to look at the ugly rags."

"That's not fair!"

"Never said I was." She smiled wickedly, before running into the hallway and coming back with a few paper bags weighing her down.

"C'mon," She said, looking determinedly at the stairs. "Get your butt upstairs."

She was at the top of the stairs first, and told me to go into my room before her, in case there were any monsters. If there were, she had said, she didn't want to get eaten. I slapped her on the arm before flinging my door open. It was still dark, and I must have forgotten to draw the curtains as I was getting dressed. I climbed onto my bed in order to reach the curtains, and pulled them open, flooding my room with light.

Alice put the bags beside my bed and got on her knees, rummaging through them as I sat on the bed and watched her face. She looked as if she was concentrating very hard; her tongue sticking out ever so slightly, and her eyes glittered with excitement. I smiled, enjoying her enjoyment, even if it was at my expense.

"Okay," She said, looking at two tops. "Which do you prefer?" She held the two up for me to inspect, and I was glad that she actually gave me a choice. I immediately chose the one that looked slightly bigger.

"But I like this one." She moaned, pointing to the one I didn't. I sighed. "Fine, you can wear that one, but when we go out you are wearing the other one." I grabbed the chosen top from her hands and took my existing top off.

I didn't mind changing in front of Alice. We weren't lesbians, but she was the only person who had ever seen me in my underwear. My mum hadn't even seen me in less than my pyjamas. I just felt very comfortable around her, and we didn't have any secrets at all.

I put the new top on and wanted to take it off. I thought it looked horrible on me, but Alice disagreed.

"I love it!" She squealed, clapping her hands.

"I don't know…"

"Honestly Bella, it looks lovely. Now put these jeans on and we can go downstairs and do something constructive." I laughed at the ending of her sentence. What were we going to do that was constructive? We could always play scrabble… as if.

I put the jeans on, and unlike the top, I wanted to keep them on forever. They fitted me perfectly, and I never wanted to take them off. They had small golden embroidery on the back pockets, and the button and zip were a matching colour. They got skinnier towards the bottom, but were not uncomfortably, skin tight skinny. A nice skinny. I was glad we were not going out, because there was no doubt Alice would want to put me in some shoes with a heel, and that I couldn't handle.

Alice practically flew down the stairs, and I envied her ability to do so. _I wish I could fly. _I had to take my time with the stairs, sure not to fall or lose my breath.

When we got downstairs mum was still in the kitchen, washing dishes from last night and this morning.

"Don't you look nice, honey!" She told me as I walked in after Alice. She said it with a tone of surprise that hurt to hear. It was so rare for me to look nice nowadays, and I hated they way she sounded surprised for me to look nice. I knew she didn't mean it like that, but it didn't help.

Alice walked straight over to the sofa and sat on the left hand side, while I walked around to the right.

"What do you want to do today?" She asked, looking at her finger nails.

"I'm not sure. Did you have anything in mind?"

"I'm sure I could think of something. Give me a second."

I don't know how, but Alice always seemed to know what to do. It was annoying on occasions; she would tell you what you would be doing before you get to do it, but most of the time it was a blessing. There was only so much you could do inside. She always knew what would work, and what wouldn't.

She eventually said that we were going to go down to the shop. Not the clothes shops in town, but the corner shop. I can't go into town because of a few reasons. My bones are really fragile because of all of my medication, and if someone walks past me and hits me, this could break some of my bones. Or, if push came to shove and they caused me to fall over, then this could damage my legs, which are only just in condition now. It is also hard for me to get into town in the first place. I can't walk, and mum doesn't drive. I can't get on the bus without mum in case I pass out or something worse, and Alice is only a learner driver. This is okay though, because I hate shopping anyway.

When we were out of the front door, Alice bombarded me with questions.

"What was all of the writing on your wall? Did I see boy on there? Does that mean I get to take you shopping? Can I take you into town at Christmas? Can we go Christmas shopping together?"

"It was things I want to do, yes you did see boy on there, no you can't, no you can't, and no you can't." I laughed at her beaten expression. "I don't know why you ask, because you know what the answer is going to be."

"A girl can dream…" She said wistfully.

"You dream about torturing me?" She replied by hitting me on the arm.

A strong wind blew around us, and I shivered harshly. I brought my coat closer to my body, making sure I was secure from the cool October winds. I looked over at Alice; curious as to if she felt the cold like I did. She wore nothing but a thin white jacket over her pink blouse.

"What was the first thing on your list?"

"I don't remember."

"Okay… what is the one you want to do the most?"

"I don't know." I said, truthfully.

"Oh, c'mon! Live a little!" She squealed, nudging me with her elbow, so softly I almost didn't feel it.

"I guess… I guess I want to go to a concert."

"That is your big idea?" She questioned sceptically. "Think bigger." She told me, waving her hands in the air. Sighing as she saw my undecided face, she prompted me some more. "Maybe something with a boy?"

"I guess I want to have sex."

"Damn right you do!"

"But no one will want to have sex with me." I said as we entered the shop. I got a few strange looks from passers by, but I didn't care. I wandered if they were looking at me like that because of my looks of what I had said. I decided I didn't care. Alice was silent as she chose a chocolate bar.

"Sure they will." She lied, picking up a Hershey's bar. I chose a Cadbury, knowing that I could save what I didn't eat for later.

"Don't lie, Ali."

"Sorry, bad habit." I didn't like it when she lied. She was the only person who didn't constantly tell me that I would be okay, because we both knew that I wouldn't.

**End Chapter.**

**Authors note; Okay, I will be having a new one-shot up soonies. I'm a little nervous: It's an entry for the Smut Movie Crossover, and my first lemon. I think of it as a… sweet lemon, not a hardcore lemon. I would love y'all forever if you check it out. (when it's posted lulz.)**

**Called 'Expectations', and is a Pride and Prejudice X Twilight crossover. I hope you like it!**

**That's me out for now. Night :)**

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note; **Hey. Wow, the response to this is completely and utterly breathtaking. I want to post twice a week. You wanna tell me your preferred days? Lemmie know. And did you know that the songs do actually apply to this? I'm actually cazy-like having a really big sexy affair with Jason Mraz at the moment. Don't tell my boyfriend.

**Song: The Great Escape, Boys Like Girls.**

**Disclaiming; **Unfortunately, twilight isn't mine.

**I Wish**

_Three_

_I Want to go on a Roller Coaster and Have Sex. Not at the Same Time Though._

"Alice," I said as we were paying. "What is sex like?"

"Hm…" She said thoughtfully. The guy behind the counter must have been about fourteen, and he looked horrified. I felt sorry for him, but continued our conversation. "For you… it will hurt. But everyone's first time does, but I am afraid it will hurt you more than others."

"Why?"

"Well, when you lose your virginity the guy is kind of… stretching you," she said, looking up as if she were trying to think. As soon as we had paid for our chocolate the boy practically ran into a room behind the cash till, leaving us to carry on our conversation. Alice held the door open for me. "And he is going deeper. If you know what I mean." She winked at me, and I giggled at how easily we can discuss such things in public. It's a free country, anyway. "It hurts everyone, but I think that because your bones are fragile and stuff that it might hurt you more."

"What was it like for you?"

"Not so bad." She shrugged. "But it's not like that for everyone. A lot of people bleed when they first have sex." She said matter of factly. I was horrified; how can something that was supposed to be natural and enjoyable hurt you so much?

"What's it like the second time?" I asked, worried that I would have to do it twice to enjoy it.

"After a few minutes during the first time it can feel amazing." I let out a breath. "But if you just do it with some guy that doesn't know of your condition he can hurt you real bad."

"How come?"

"Guys get excited pretty easily, Bella. He could just end up going it for his pleasure, which usually means hard and fast." She took a big breath, and I sensed there was something she wasn't telling me. "It can hurt anyone if a guy does that, but it would hurt you even more. He could grip your waist too hard or something like that."

"Has anyone ever done that to you?"

"Yeah." She looked down at the floor, and I sensed she didn't really want to talk about it.

"Why doesn't it hurt guys as well? I mean, I did have sex education and stuff at school, but it just seems so unfair."

"If the person loves you, it will hurt them too." I raised my eyebrows at her as we walked around my house towards the back door. She rolled her eyes at me. "Seeing you hurt will hurt them too." I nodded in understanding.

"So, what if the first time doesn't feel amazing?" I asked, opening my chocolate bar and breaking one square in half.

"Hi girls." My mum greeted us. Alice smiled in recognition but I kept my eyes trained on Alice.

"As I said, if you love each other then it shouldn't matter. Because you are sharing something together and there will be no doubt that he will find it amazing. If he does, then it shouldn't matter if you don't, because making him feel good will make you feel good." I nodded again, gradually understanding. I expected mum to comment, but she stayed silent and put the kettle on.

We sat in our seats that we were in before we went out, and we both stared ahead, lost in our own thoughts.

I was sure that I could handle it. I have had so many needles and operations that pain seems to be a friend. If it hurts a little like it did Alice then it should be fine. I don't know what I would do if I started to bleed. I don't like blood. It's bad enough with my period. But I didn't want to fall in love. Well, I did, but it wasn't number one on my list. Just a boyfriend. So how was I going to have sex if I didn't fall in love?

"Alice, will you take me clubbing with you?" She looked at me, surprised. I usually would make silly comments about the parties Alice goes to, making fun of the crappy songs she dances to and the ugly guys who try to make a move on her. I secretly really wanted to go.

"Er…" She looked at my mum. "Mum?" She asked. Ever since about a year ago Alice stopped calling my mum Renee and began calling her mum. Mum practically burst with pride every time Alice did so.

"Yes, dear?"

"Bells want to go clubbing to have sex."

"It's not only that," I began to defend myself. "I want to see what you to do for fun, and if I have sex that's a bonus." I said, proud at my argument.

"I don't know, sweetheart. You can go clubbing, but I think you should wait to have sex."

"I'm dying, why wait?"

"Because some guys are not nice when it comes to sex, love."

"I know, Ali already told me that."

"And you still want to have sex with a stranger?"

"If I have to. If that's the only way I can." Mum sighed, and I could sense I was winning.

"We will talk about this later." In other words, okay, but I want to tell you about protection.

Alice was staring at me, mouth hanging open. I smiled innocently at her, and before I knew it she was pushing me up the stairs. She pushed me onto my bed, gently, and I landed with a soft whoosh.

"What the-?" I began, but came up short with my question. What was I actually asking her? "What the hell are you doing?" I settled for, decided that it covered all aspects of my questions.

"How do you get around your mum like that?! That was brilliant!" She said in awe. I just shrugged.

"It usually helps when I remind her that I apparently only have months to live. You don't have that advantage unfortunately." I added sourly.

"Aw, Come on Bell, don't be such a grouch." She said, nudging me as she sat beside me.

"Oh, I'm a grouch now am I? You can't stand to be in the same room as a 'grouch', is that what you're saying?" I almost yelled, agitated.

"No, it's not that, it's ju-"

"Save it for someone who cares, Alice." I snapped, holding my hands in front of me in defence.

"You're such a bitch sometimes." She muttered.

"Then leave! No one is stopping you!" She gawped at me, for a radical moment looking like a fish out of water.

"You see what I mean?" She had regained her composure and resumed to the argument. "Just a bitch!"

"Not so good yourself!" I retorted.

"You know what?" She yelled, standing up and spitting in my face. "Maybe I can't stand to be in the same room as you! You are so self centred Bella! You're no different to the rest of them!" I turned my face slightly to the side, cringing away from her hateful words. "And do you know something else?" She continued. "I hope that you crash back to earth soon. You're not Bell anymore; ever since your dad left you have just been… lifeless. You need to come back to reality. You need to realise not everything can revolve around you."

She leaned back from the balls of her feet, her face flushed red and her eyes watery. I just looked into her eyes, telling her that I was sorry. She smiled an apologetic smile, shaking her head before she uttered "Goodbye Bella." So quietly I almost didn't hear. With that she left, closing the door softly.

I hated it when I argued with Alice. I couldn't seem to help it; she would say something and I would completely blow it out of proportion, and I wouldn't realise I had done so until after I had said it. She was energetic, but that could easily turn upside down into a negative. She wasn't usually one to step down from an argument, and she had way much more stamina than I ever had. I would usually be the one to step down or apologise first, but I could hold a monster grudge.

I lay down on my bed, looking at the ceiling and processing our argument. I didn't get to do much thinking, as not ten minutes later mum knocked on my door.

"Do you want to talk, love?" She asked softly, sitting beside me.

"No."

"Are you sure? Alice looked pretty upset." She murmured, stroking my hair softly.

"No." She sighed. "Leave me alone." I said, rolling over so that my face was pressed into the pillow. I heard her mutter something unimportant and the door slam. I flinched at the loud noise against my sensitive ears, but ignoring it and breathing deeply. Have you ever tried to breathe deeply through your nose when your face is squashed into a pillow? Harder than it sounds.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I got up my bones creaked, and the clock said half four. I don't remember when I talked to mum, but it certainly wasn't five minutes ago. I stood up slowly, groaning and unison with my bones.

I padded down the stairs, tripping slightly on the last step. I gripped the barrier tightly and stood for a moment, trying to quieten my rapid heart beat. I looked down at my hands as they held onto the wood and was shocked by the colour. There were white; like snow white. I gently pried my fingers off and flexed them, closing my eyes at the nasty cracking sounds.

"Hey mum." I said, walking into the kitchen, seeing her back greet me. She was bent over the counter top, looking out of the window. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, honey. I just wanted to go out."

"Oh." I was raining, pretty heavily. The leaves were sagging with moisture, and the window looked as if it had tiny waves on it, lapping at the scenery.

"Never mind." She sighed, turning to lean her bum on the edge of the counter.

Whenever mum got stressed she would go out for a run. She would be back within an hour, so I didn't mind, but whenever she was 'out' I knew I had done something wrong to stress her out. There was no one else to stress her out, so it had to be me. She never told me though. She would just go out for a run, and I would probally sleep or call Alice. She made sure that I knew she was out; not to panic me. But it was okay, because she needed to. It was like her medicine.

"Did you want to do anything else?" I asked her, seeing if I could mend whatever I did wrong.

"Depends; what are you up to doing?"

"We could play a game, or make something." I shrugged, picking ideas off the top of my head. "Do we still have monopoly?"

"That's a wonderful idea!" She said, clapping her hands, her whole face lighting up. "It's in the cupboard in my room, I'll go get it."

"No, mum. I'll get it." She raised an eyebrow at me skeptically, but I just smiled at her.

"Okay," She said warily. "I'll put the kettle on." I nodded at her and walked up the stairs silently.

I hated it when mum did everything. When it came to things like getting out a board game, I could do it. She thought I couldn't, but I can. She doesn't trust me enough not to hurt myself, but I'm not nearly as fragile as she thinks I am; it's just her imagination. I can actually do a lot more than she gives me credit for.

I wasn't sure which cupboard it was in, so I just flung open all doors and took a step back, looking on shelves and behind masses of clothes.

I didn't know why mum had so many clothes. She was almost as bad as Alice, but Alice was still worse. Mum never went out, and she wore the same kind of stuff everyday, so I didn't see why she had that sparkly silver dress or the five inch high heels. If she has ever worn them, it was before I was born. So why hasn't she thrown them out, or even sold them? Some of them might be vintage, and some people pay a lot of money for vintage clothes.

I couldn't see any board games at first, so I went to the cupboard closest to the door, standing on my tip toes to see the top shelf. I couldn't see anything, so I repeated the process to the next cupboards, closing the doors after I had ruled out each.

I also didn't know why mum had so many cupboards. Sure, she had a lot of clothes, but if she threw some out then she wouldn't need so many cupboards, then she could have more space in her room. Not that she needed much more space; her room was big anyway.

**End Chapter.**

**Authors note; Love it? Hate it? Could do better? I would love to know :)**

**Review?**

Oh, and don't forget to let me know what day a week you want me to update. I have some pretty important exams coming up.

And has anyone else heard of this book, Before I Die? Apparently this is like that book, but I haven't read it. Does anyone have a problem with this being similar? I will research it and make sure this isn't the same as the book. :)

Love you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors note; **Hey guys. Sorry for the wait (if there was one – I've been really out of it recently) For people that knew My Best Friend, my sleeping problems have returned, and they have given up with trying to stuff pills down my throat; nothing ever works. It shouldn't really affect this story, because this isn't updated as frequently as My Best Friend, but if my chapters get worse or whatever, that's why. Last week I was in hospital everyday after school and they figured I got three and a half hours sleep over seven nights. I suffer from night frights and a severe case of insomnia, which is what I'm going to look up in a second after I have done this :) But yeah, I hope you can understand.

**Song: I'm Yours, Jason Mraz.**

**Disclaiming; **I'm just mucking with the characters.

**Wishes**

_Four_

_Stupid Tall Cupboards, Stupid Board Games, Stupid Rain and Stupid Life._

I never found the wretched board game. My arms started to ache and my head got dizzy, so I gave up and went back into the kitchen, where mum was still leaning on the counter.

"Did you find it?" Mum asked after a few moments of silence. I think she knew the answer anyway, but she still asked.

"No."

"Shall I go and get it?"

"No."

As much as I hated being grumpy with mum, I couldn't seem to help it. It was like my emotions had a complete mind of their own. I did want to play the game, but after it was hiding from me I gathered it didn't want to be used. Mum just sighed and left the room.

I think she hated me sometimes. She would leave the room without saying a word, and I would always wonder what I had done wrong. This time I knew exactly what I had done wrong, but it still hurt when she walked out of the room, all the same. She had a look of hurt on her face that seemed to always show when I was in the room. I told you I had sucked the life out of her.

Thing is, I never asked mum to take care of me. As long as I took my medication then I would be okay, and I'm old enough and ugly enough to take care of myself. But mum has the need to always have an eye on me, as if I would fall over nothing again or that she didn't believe I took my medicine.

But I guess I should let her have that; I hate my medicine. It's a huge tablet everyday, like the size of my little fingernail. It's not coated so scratches my throat and I have to dry swallow it then gulp down water. That's because it dissolves really quickly and if I swallowed it with water then it would dissolve in my mouth straight away, and then I would just have the residue in my mouth. And it tastes disgusting.

That's not it, though. I have vitamin tablets too. Mum just watches me swallow pill after pill at the dining room table, day after day. Vitamin E helps my body to recover from anaemia. Vitamin A protects my intestine from radiation. Slippery elm replaces the mucous along the tubes in my body. Potassium, iron and copper strengthen my immune system. Silica makes my bones stronger. Aloe Vera was given to me by my aunt from her aromatherapy magazine. I don't know why I use it, but it makes my skin soft and smells nice, rather than it being dry and smelling sickly as it usually did.

Angela comes twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, and takes blood. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn't. When I ask what she's looking for she just smiles and tells me I should Google it, which I would if our computer was working and if I didn't get headaches from watching the screen. That's why I don't really watch TV. The little pixels don't make a full picture anymore, and my eyes can't focus properly. It's okay though; I never really watched TV in the first place.

Thing is, I don't really do anything. I never really do anything exciting at all. That's why I made my list. I know everyone makes a list when they're like me, but I don't care. I actually think it's a really good idea, and I think everyone should do it. Every second of your life you're dying, yet why do lots of people forget that? There are only two certain things in life: birth and death. That's it. Nothing else. So why isn't everyone making a list?

If I was ruler of the world the first thing I would do is make everyone write a list.

I turned around again to look at the window. There was a little bird on a branch, the leaves spreading above it, sheltering the small animal. It looked… defenceless, almost. It looked lost. It looked as if its mum flew off without it. But for some reason, it seemed at home. Even though it seemed lost, I think it knew what it was doing. I call it, it only because I couldn't tell whether it was a boy or girl.

Hesitantly, the bird spread its wings. Its tiny little wings. One side of me didn't want it to fly away; I wanted to watch it, as well as I was afraid that its wings might fail him/her. But the other side of me knew that it had to learn and that it had to find its mother. It needed to be where it belonged. My head started to ache again.

I slowly, because my eyes were out of focus, made my way to the living room. I sat down on the side I always sit, but then took up the whole sofa by lying down on my side.

I don't know why I always sat the same side. The right side was further away from the left. But the left side seemed flat all the time, no matter how much you fluffed and puffed up the pillows, it still looked dead compared to the right. I think that's why I always seemed to sit on the right. It felt as if I belonged on the right side of the sofa; I didn't belong anywhere else.

Mum didn't come back down stairs. I considered going upstairs to see if she was okay but then I decided not to in case she was thinking about dad. She always gets stressed if I interrupt her when she thinks about dad because she never has enough time to herself. I don't think she means it in the way I think it, but it sounds as if it's my fault she never has enough time to herself. Well, it is actually my fault. But whenever I tell her that I can look after myself she just rolls her eyes. I hate it when she rolls her eyes.

I hate it when I just fall asleep. When I opened my eyes I was still curled up on the sofa and my back hurt. My eyes weren't unfocused anymore but my head hurt a little more. I didn't bother to check the time.

Mum sounded as if she were murdering our dinner. Pots and pans clunked about, making the ringing in my ears that little bit harsher. This could only mean one thing.

"Mum, who are you baking for?" I asked as I stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Oh, honey, you startled me." She said, breathless, clutching a fist to her chest. "You know that lovely lady next door? Well her son is coming home for Christmas."

"Christmas is ages away."

"I know honey. I don't know what's going on with him, but she tells me he is such a lovely boy."

"Are they the new neighbours?"

"Oh, no, they have lived there for years! Her husband…" She scratched her head. "What does he do?" I don't know, why are you asking me? "Oh, I can't remember. Anyway, the new neighbours are a very young couple. The husband seems terribly frightening…" She mumbled, picking the pan back up that she had dropped when I entered the room.

"Don't worry mum, I'll protect you." I joked, enjoying the sound of her hearty laughter. It was nice to hear her laugh sometimes.

It was ages before mum gave up and walked down to the shop to get some un-charred cookies. She attempted them at least four or five time before she admitted defeat. She should have let me do it. She put them on gas mark seven repeatedly, when they needed to be on five or less, but I didn't tell her.

When I keep secrets I feel like I actually know more everyone else. Alice knows lots more than me because she goes to school. I bet if I was still at school I would know more than her, but that's only because I would revise while she would be out getting drunk. Sometimes I wonder if we would actually be friends if I wasn't sick. The answer is no, we wouldn't be. That gets me frustrated; knowing that I can't make friends. Everyone can make friends… except me.

Alice used to tell me that she hated it when I kept secrets from her. She said that it wasn't fair. Then I told her that life wasn't fair, which it isn't. Life is increasingly unfair. She doesn't insist on me telling her things anymore; she just accepts it.

One time, I said I couldn't come out of my room. Then Alice asked why.

"Because there is a green monster who wants to eat me, hiding in the airing cupboard."

"Oh, I see." She was completely sincere, too. And keep in mind I was… fifteen? But she went along with me. She didn't ask me to prove it or anything, she just nodded and helped me build a wall from cushions to keep the monster out. I guess we were re-capturing our childhood.

One thing I hate more than anything else is when someone keeps a secret to me. And I know they do it, but they don't know that I know, which is kind of naïve, to be honest. Most of my life people have been keeping secrets from me, so I have become quite and expert. I don't like it because I am paranoid. It took me ages to admit it, but I am really, really paranoid. I just don't understand why no one tells me things; I'm going to die anyway, so why not tell me?

Two years ago my mum had a really big argument with me. Well, it was more of a her-shouting-at-me argument. She said that I blame everything on being ill. She said that I shouldn't get any kind of special treatment because I am ill – I'm still the same as everyone else my age. I didn't say it then, mainly because I was scared to say anything, but I'm not the same. No one else (that I knew) was my age and only had a short while to live. In my eyes I should have had special treatment. You would want special treatment too, if you were me.

Sometimes, when I'm outside and wearing my bandana, I don't tell people I'm ill. I see if they look at me differently to when they look at anyone else. It was stupid really; of course they will. No one wears bandanas anymore. But what else is there to do?

I don't do anything. I used to hate school, so when I got taken out I was glad. But now… I don't know. I kinda wish I still went. I would at least have Alice, and maybe the next door neighbour would be my friend. I didn't even know whether they were a boy or girl; all I know is that they have very young parents, according to mum.

I didn't only dislike the kids at school, but the lessons too. I didn't like art because I can't draw, I didn't like maths because I'm shit with numbers and I didn't like science because the lab always smelt funny. I didn't like English, either. Well, when I was younger I liked to read books, but as I got older my eyes became worse and I would get frustrated because I couldn't read, so I just stopped altogether. When I say I can't read people think that there is something really wrong with my eyes, or I'm just stupid. I _can _read, but after ten minutes my eyes hurt. There is actually nothing _really_ wrong with my eyes. Just something wrong with me in general.

When I was eleven my religious education teacher asked everyone in class if they believed in God. I sat at the back in all of my classes because everyone else had paired up and sat together. For some reason the teachers thought that it would be a good idea to constantly ask me for answers. It ended up embarrassing me; as if I wasn't already embarrassed enough. When she asked me what I thought I had said 'If there is a God, why do people die?' At the time I thought it was a good question. Still do. It never got answered, and everyone laughed at me like I had said the funniest thing. I never liked religious education anyway.

The day after that, a girl I whose name I didn't know had come up to me and told me to go and die; give her the answer to my question, because she wanted to know why people died too. I had tried to be friendly to her, but she rolled her eyes and ran off. Even before I was sick I couldn't make friends.

I still don't know whether I believe in God or not. Mum doesn't, but she doesn't demand answers like I do. She just accepts things. The only solution to the creation of everything is God, but I still find it hard to believe that there is a place where men actually wear dresses and people party like it's the 90's.

**End of Chapter.**

**Authors note; **I know it's a little shorter. I think. Liked it? :) LOVE YOU ALL!

**Review?**


	6. Yes, Yes, Yes, I'm Dead I'm Dead!

**I'm being totally illegal and posting an authors note; **Bah. Okay, hate me for a shitty authors note.

I'm not really in a good mood at the moment, but I just wanted to post this to let you guys know how it's going down.

Okay, so my computer has this virus shit. It just randomly shuts down on me for no reason, which pisses me off beyond belief. I'm gonna get it fixed, but in the mean time, please, be patient.

I'm not very well. I don't want to go into it, but most of you know anyway. They think that there is some pressure on my brain or some shit (Kels, don't kill me for not telling you!) and it stops me sleeping. I'm flunking classes and my whole life is a general douche.

And finally (I think) what happened people? I know I do go on sometimes, but like… two reviews last chapter? I've lost all feeling for this story completely. I will damn well finish it, but… I dunno. It may be shit. I need some encouragement or whatever.

Yeah, so I'm not pissy with you, but with life in general. I will provide chapters if you provide reviews. Fair deal? Even if you think it's a crap deal, that's all you're getting xD

Be safe,

Natalie.


	7. I'm A Douche

**Yes, I'm a douche and y'all should hate me for posting two of these pieces of shit in a row…: **Here we go again…

I read 'Before I Die' and I'm totally pissed. Just pissed with me that I didn't fucking think of this earlier.

Basically guys, this FF is so similar to the book, I'm feeling awful. I don't really want to write it anymore because this is so similar to the book.

But, whatever. I will try and add another chapter soon, and I will try to steer away from the direction that the book went so that for those of you who _have_ read the book, aren't just reading it again with the Twilight characters.

So, I really can't apologise anymore. If any of you have any ideas **AT ALL** please, please, **PLEASE**, stick it in a review for me. I will seriously love you forever ad ever.

Be safe,

Natalie.

PS. Other story updates are on their way shortly :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors note; **I know a lot of people are hating me and I know lots of people are waiting for Edward… he will make an appearance, I promise.

**Song: Eat You Alive, Limp of the Bizkit!**

**Disclaiming; **Nein, Ich habe nicht Twilight.

**I Wish**

_Five_

_Who Knew I Was Ill? I Certainly Did._

When I was fourteen I wrote a diary. I wrote everything down I did thinking that I would drop dead the next day. For one day I counted how many times I breathed in and wrote it in, then guessed how many breaths I took from that day on. On the third day of having my diary I estimated I breathed one thousand eight hundred and sixty one times, but then I gave up because I technically only counted for fourteen hours, and that isn't a day. After that I just wrote 'I breathed today' on the bottom of every page. I used to write 'breathe' on my hand, just in case I forgot to. I wanted to have it tattooed on but mum wouldn't let me. She says no daughter of hers will deface her body. That's why it's on my list.

I found all of the pages from my diary. I asked mum where the shredder was, but she reminded me I had broken it when I tripped over the cable. I wanted to shred every entry of my diary because in every entry I sounded sorry for myself. I don't really feel like that. I just sometimes wonder why it had to be me that gets ill. Alice is never ill.

Alice wanted to read my diary once. I remember holding it really close to my chest, locking my arms around it like it was secret treasure.

"Friends don't have secrets from each other." She had told me. That made me feel guilty, but I still didn't let her read it.

"Everything in here you know anyway, so why do you want to read it?" She didn't reply, and I think, for the first time, I out-witted her. In my mind I was doing somersaults.

I threw myself onto my bed when mum told me I had broken the shredder. The box of hundreds of pages was under my bed, taunting me, begging to be read and written in again. But I refused to give it the pleasure. Each page just told me how ill I was, and what a self centred child I was. Mum still calls me a child, but that would mean I still act the same as I did back then, and I certainly do not. I don't write in that stupid little diary for a start.

Mum went to see the next door neighbours today; give them the damned cookies for their stupid son. I bet he was sent off to some poxy little boarding school for talented little kids who have pokers stuck up their arses. Okay, I had always told myself that I wouldn't judge people, but he must have fucked something (or someone) up to be sent home from college or whatever. I wouldn't misbehave if I went there; I actually appreciate education, unlike that ungrateful little shit.

I saw him unload boxes this morning, real early. I was watching from my bedroom window, and could see his shiny car sitting in the drive, boot open. He was carrying boxes, heavy looking boxes, but somehow seemingly picking them up with ease. I wanted to kill him already. Preferably slow and painful. I don't know, I would have to see what mood I'm in. Not five minutes later my eyes started to hurt from squinting out of the window. Plus, I think he saw me looking. I ducked and cursed when my head hit the window sill. I bet he laughed; the arrogant shit.

I hate men. They are big and scary, most of the time, they always have to be right and always think that everything is a mans job. They can't stand it when women do things they do, and hate it more when women do it better. But that's okay, because women aren't stupid and have to be good at everything, so when we do something good we don't brag, because we are, essentially, selfless creatures.

I didn't go back into my room. I didn't want to go into a room where the window-sill was going to attack me and where the boxes of my diary wanted to eat me. It's like my window sill and the boxes were making a plan against me. Stupid things.

Stupid Bella for thinking inanimate objects had minds of their own, _again._

"Bella?" Mum called. I stalked into her room and hid in her bed. _Ha. She would never find me here. _

I could hear footsteps on the landing, and my door creaking open.

"Bella?" She called again. When she called my name, her voice went higher. I wondered if she thought I was missing. I wondered what she would do if she thought I was missing, and I wondered how long it would take her to either phone the police or invite all of her friends round for a party.

It was cosy under mum's quilt. She had this quilt since forever. It's nice. I like it. It's soft. Sometimes, the really soft quilt's get all un-soft when they go in the wash, but mum's one doesn't. That's good because then I can lie in it without it being scratchy on my skin.

"Bella, honey, I know you're in there, you're not trying on my clothes again? If so, please state now so that I don't walk in on you in your undies."

"My undies are concealed."

"Good." She said, opening the door slowly. "Undies are never good on display. Unless of course you get the display undies."

"Yes, the display undies are very useful when you wish to display them."

Mum came and sat next to me on the bed, giggling. I had to laugh too, just at the sheer stupidity of our conversation.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, stroking my hair. Mum always stroked my hair when she was in a good mood. I had to watch my words, because I didn't want to ruin her good mood with me saying something wrong.

Of course, me saying something wrong is the inevitable, but I could at least _try_ not to start her off. When she starts off she never stops. She's like a never ending spiral and when she gets going, and there is absolutely nothing at all in the world that can distract her. Nothing at all that could steer her off telling me off. I could die and she would still insist on finishing her sentence. But it's okay, because she usually does have important things to say.

I don't like my relationship with mum. It's not how a mother daughter relationship should be. She should have talked me through my first period and dad leaving and about sex and boys and tests and fashion and make up, but she never did. She didn't like talking to me like that, because she wasn't very good at any of it herself.

In fact, she's probably worse at all of those things than I am. I just wish that she would have spent more time with me. More time explaining things to me and telling me how to live my life.

I wish she was like the mum you see on TV where they all have a huge argument and then they kiss and make up. They just find out that she isn't really his mum and they argue for twenty-nine minutes, and then, just before the end of the programme, he runs back into her arms and they both start blubbering. Either that or someone dies.

I wish dad was still around. I would have preferred to have dad bring me up than mum. Then maybe everything would be a little easier. Maybe then I would be able to talk to people. Dad was a lot friendlier than mum. Mum is an ice cube compared to dad, and I hate that.

I hate that mum doesn't really make friends. I hate that mum blames me for her not having any friends. I hate that mum wishes I was different, because if I weren't ill then I wouldn't be Bella. I would just be plain old Isabella Swan. Anyway, if I'm ill I have an excuse to be grumpy and not have any friends.

Mum says that I blame everything on being ill. She told me that I shouldn't use it as an excuse. What should I use it as then? 'Sorry, I can't run, because I can't be bothered.' That doesn't sound nearly as good as 'I'm terminally ill.' I think mum is just jealous that she doesn't have an excuse for getting out of things. I bet she wishes she could be ill so that she could get out of paperwork or whatever it is she does.

I don't even know what mum does. I don't even know if she still works. Well, I know she doesn't physically go out and work, because she is always home with me, and she might work from home when I'm not paying attention. She is on the phone a lot.

Mum used to work in an office for a lawyer. I had only talked to her once about it, and she said that she really enjoyed it and misses it. I want her to go back to work if she misses it that much. I think she would be a lot happier if she went to work. I think I would be a lot happier to have mum out of my hair for a couple of hours a day.

"I'm fine."

"Good. I was thinking about heading out."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere."

"Fine." I snapped. "Bye." I rolled onto my side and pulled the cover over my head. I hated it when mum was cryptic.

**End Of Chapter.**

**Authors note; **Heck, its short. Sorry. Thank you so much for all of your words of support! Did everyone like the kind of switch between Renee and Charlie? Where Renee is the cold one and Charlie is/was friendly? Oh, and 'undies' wasn't recognised by word, so if you don't know what it is (because I have no idea if it's an English term or not, please forgive me) then it's underwear. You know, bra, knickers etc.

Love you guys, tell me what y'all thinking right at this second.


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors note; **Hey. Yeah, I love you too.

**Song: **The Rumour, You Me At Six

**Disclaiming;** Of course not.

**I Wish**

_Six_

_Ha, That's A Funny Joke! Wait, It Wasn't A Joke?!_

As soon as Alice came over she had to go back to school. Alice has these passes that let her go home for lunch, but instead of going home she came here to apologise.

I moaned at her to stay; she needed to eat something. Well, that was my excuse. I just wanted her to stay. Instead she promised that she would come over and stay the night tonight, because she only has to go into school for just the last half of the day tomorrow.

I didn't want to talk to mum. She still seemed angry at me. At first I couldn't think why, and then I thought back and remembered I had never apologised for being grumpy when it was raining.

Everyone seemed to be apologising to everyone recently. First Alice, now me. But that's only because we always do things wrong, and mum knows that. I think she tries to be patient but sometimes I just wear her down.

I hate myself when mum is sad. Because it's always my fault.

Angela came over shortly after Alice left. Angela's expression frightened me; the last time she wore a face similar was when she came to tell us that the doctors didn't think they could help me.

She came through the back door (she has a key. She suggested that since she needed to be able to come over whenever she thought and if mum's out mum locks the doors. Angela has only used the key twice, but in this instance the back door was open anyway), carrying the typical items I expected her to. The only difference was Angela herself.

Her hair was tied up on the top of her head in a bun, but she had gone almost black now. Beforehand it was a very light brown; extremely close to being blonde, but it was now black. It looked very pretty on her, but Angela always looked pretty.

The other thing I noticed were he clothes. She was in a suit. Like a proper trouser suit, with white pinstripes on the trousers. That, above everything else, scared the shit out of me.

"Hi Angela." I greeted her, not moving an inch from my warm spot on the couch.

She smiled at me. A fake, heart shattering smile. I should have known what she was going to say a mile off, but I didn't. I just didn't think she would.

"Oh Angela!" My mum bustled in to the room, face flushed. I guessed she was a little surprised to see Angela; almost as surprised as I was. "You do look nice." She noted. "Is that a new hair colour?"

Angela just nodded, her expression returning to the one she held entering. She put everything down on the side of the sofa and sat on the coffee table directly in front of me, taking deep breaths and looking anywhere but at me.

Angela had been my nurse since as long as I can be bothered to remember. I did have one nurse before her, but I don't remember her much. According to mum, her name was Rose. She was a lot older than Angela, and a little older than mum. She wasn't very good at her job.

It annoys me that I can't remember things. I know other people are probably exactly the same, but it annoys me nonetheless. I wish I could remember Rose. I had her as my first nurse and she only stayed on for six months before mum demanded someone else. I only seem to remember the really important things from my early teen years. That's one reason why I wrote a diary; I wanted to remember everything forever.

The end of forever doesn't seem so far away anymore.

"So, I needed to talk to you." Angela said, facing me but still not looking at me. I knew what she was thinking, and that she didn't want to, but she probably had no choice. A thousand outcomes were running through my head, but I just wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak, before I began to panic.

"I gathered that." I smiled, looking at her clothes than to her hair than back to her eyes. As soon as my eyes connected with hers she averted them quicker than I thought would be possible. She really seemed to be dreading the next words.

"Is something wrong?" My mum interjected, interrupting my mini-staring contest with Angela.

"A few things." She answered bluntly. I looked at mum. She seemed equally as horrified at Angela's mood. Angela was always… chirpy.

Angela's happiness had once driven me to breaking point. She was so happy all the time. How is that even possible? But when she started to tell me what was going to happen, I was silently begging her to laugh in my face and tell me how her joke worked, how funny my face looked. Because that's what I wanted it to be; a silly joke.

"I got called into the office yesterday," She began, suddenly taking a deep interest in her finger nails. She picked at them slowly, trying to voice her next thoughts. "I was suspicious."

Angela never gets called into the office. She is a home nurse for two other people like me, so her job is to visit each of us once at least every two days. She never gets called into the office because she never needs to speak to her bosses.

I had never met the other two people. I think they are my age because that's Angela's speciality, and I think they are both girls too. Angela sometimes says things like 'oh, my other one did that' or something similar, but that never told me whether they were male or female. I guess it doesn't really matter anyway.

"Everyone looked so… sad. Some colleges looked angry, whether with me or the boss I don't know."

I didn't know any of Angela's colleges, either. I guess it would have been nice to meet some of the people she worked with, but really, there was never any need for me to meet them. I wondered whether Angela's other patients had met her colleges or not, but then I decided probably not. I was the one Angela spent most time with because I had the shortest to live, apparently, and she needed to take my blood more often. So if anyone, it would have been me to meet her colleges.

"It's always hard. It was especially with my first patient. She was only ten when she passed, such a pretty little thing. She had leukaemia, like you. But they just didn't catch it in time. Apparently it had been in her system for years, they just never noticed."

That's something else I didn't know about Angela. How long she had been a nurse, for starters. How old was she when she was issued this ten year old girl? It must have been hard for Angela's first patient to have been so young.

I remember hearing stories from the doctors about some of the home nurses. When we first accepted that I wasn't getting better, the doctors suggested a home nurse so I could spend the rest of my time at home instead of in hospital. They had warned me, telling about some of the younger home nurses.

One woman, about nineteen, had a breakdown when her first patient died. He was a little boy, about seven, and when she went to the house one morning she walked into the kitchen to find the mother crying over the little boy's body. She left the profession then, too traumatised by the scene.

A male nurse had to move to another hospital when a girl about my age begged him to have sex with her. She had cancer and even her breaths were numbered. She had cried and fallen to her knees, begging him not to let her die a virgin. He didn't give in, but immediately transferred himself elsewhere and informed his new employer that he would only work with boys. I tried to imagine being the poor nurse. Must have been like he was torn in two; seeing the girl before him.

"They sat me down in a big conference room, a huge table in the centre of the room; I had never seen anything so ridiculously extravagant in my life." She laughed humourlessly. "There were my friends there, sitting in suits too. When my head was down they were looking at me, but when I looked up they all looked away. It was very frustrating." She told me. I knew the feeling.

"My boss, well, the boss of my boss, had called the meeting. He said that there was another case across the country. He said that it was very rare, but when I asked for specifics he just glazed over them." She said through clenched teeth. I could understand that perfectly, too.

"He said that everyone in the room was being transferred. He said that all of our current patients will be taken care of."

Although I was aware it was coming (I figured it out as soon as she sat on the coffee table) I still hit me hard. My first thought was who would I get in replacement? I don't want a guy. But then I thought, I don't want anyone else. I wanted Angela.

"I argued with him, of course. I was the only one in the room who hadn't been notified in advance. Apparently, my boss was going to, wanted to, but couldn't bring himself to. He knew my attachment to you and said he could never find the right time to tell me."

I wanted to kill this guy. And _his _boss too. If he told her when he should have, then it might have been easier, and I wanted to kill his boss because then Angela could stay with me. She could look after me still.

She would still come over and smile at me a say 'good morning' in her sing song voice and she would say 'this wont hurt… oh, what's that?' to distract me as the blood got taken. She would look genuinely interested in an imaginary object in front of me, fooling me (not anymore, but when I was younger I fell for it) into going along with it and explaining what it looked like and where we got it. When I was younger I thought we were just playing a game, not distracting me.

Now she says it just as our little joke. I still go along with it. Last time there was a floating toaster with purple crumpets inside. When mum came into the room with a plate of crumpets we both burst out laughing. She had tears streaming down her face, then asked mum for purple paint. It was hilarious, especially after mum brought in a little tub of lilac tester paint, confused look on her face. That just made us laugh harder.

"Do you remember when I first came to you?" She asked, her voice choked and her eyes watering.

I was okay. I was used to people leaving me. I was good at wearing a mask.

"You had the prettiest head of hair. I remember you had spent hours straightening it, only for it to rain as we came home." She giggled despite her tears. "Then I told you that there was no point."

I did remember. I didn't have the prettiest head of hair. I had thin, brown hair. It took us ages to get onto the list for chemo because there was always someone worse off. I only started it about a month before we got Michelle, so I still had some hair. I wanted to make the most of it. I didn't want to scare her away.

She had said that if I straightened it too much it would fall out a lot quicker. When we got home I ran to my room and cried. I had spent so long trying to straighten it, only for her to hate it. Well, that's what I thought she was saying, anyway.

"You ran upstairs as soon as we got to your house. You looked so upset, and I was so worried I had said something wrong. I didn't mean for it to upset you. I thought you might just want to know. I thought most girls wanted to keep their hair as long as possible. By straightening it you were just loosing it faster."

Of course, she was right. The small clumps of hair on my head were practically gone by the morning after. At first I was horrified, but then decided I would have to get used to it. There was no way I could get through chemo with all my hair still in tact.

"I talked to your mum for ages. We talked about everything. Then she went to bed. The trust you both had in me to stay in your living room while you slept was amazing. I felt so loved by perfect strangers. I felt so warm.

"I used your kettle. It's still the same kettle." She laughed. "Then I thought it was the quickest kettle I had ever seen. It only took two minutes! My one took absolutely ages. But I didn't bother marvelling over it; I was thinking."

It's funny when Angela thinks. She makes funny faces as if she it trying to work out a maths problem.

Angela makes funny faces all the time, though. If I'm mad or upset she would burst through my bedroom door wearing a silly mask or pulling a funny face. At first I would look at her as if she were crazy. Which she was, but I was used to it anyway. I would keep a serious face on for at least five seconds. Then I wouldn't be able to hold it back, and I would practically burst of laughter.

"I couldn't believe I had been so horrid to you. And then you came down stairs in the morning and I hadn't gone home, I was scared you would shout at me for still sitting on the sofa. Instead you just made yourself a cup of tea and sat next to me. You didn't say good morning or anything. Just sat by me. I looked at you, but you never looked at me. You stared at the fire place. You never drank your tea either. You just held it; as if you were warming your hands."

**End Of Chapter.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors note; **Heck yeaaaah.

**Song: **… ROB PATTINSON.

**Disclaiming; **YEAH.

**I Wish**

_Seven_

_You're a Whore. Yes you are! Yes you are!_

Angela left not too soon after that. She took my blood again, and said she would be over in two days to say goodbye.

I didn't say goodbye to her when she left, because then she would have to come back. She wouldn't leave me forever without saying goodbye.

She also said that she was going to bring my new nurse with her. When I asked her if it was a man she just shrugged. She said she didn't know, which I'm sure is a load of rubbish. If she didn't know who they were how could she bring him with her? When I asked she just laughed and shook her head. She does that a lot.

Alice came over, looking excited. She had her bag thrown over her shoulder and her hair was even crazier than normal. Her cheeks were red and she had the biggest smile known to humanity plastered across her face. That made me smile, too.

"Guess what?!" She squealed, jumping onto the sofa beside me. I just raised an eyebrow, and that was enough to spring her into major talking mode.

"Okay, so there is this new guy in my English lit class…"

Alice loved English. It was her all time favourite subject, although I haven't seen her read a proper book in my life. I don't think magazines count. But I'm sure she has, because she had to write a report on Shakespeare. I have only read Romeo and Juliet, but I helped her type everything out, anyway.

I saw the film once, too. I only remember parts of it, because I watched it with Alice and she kept talking throughout the whole thing. But I'm used to it. I remember her squealing when Leonardo Di Caprio came on screen.

"…And I swear he is the best looking guy I have ever met."

She says that a lot. The last guy she met in a club was also 'the best looking guy' she had ever met. I don't understand how she could say that about a guy who she was dancing with in poor lighting conditions, anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if he had two buck teeth and Dumbledore tattooed on his back.

"He took the desk in front of me and my God he smelt amazing."

He smelt amazing?! He probably thinks she is a freak.

"Why the hell did you _smell _him?"

"Oh, no, not like that. I mean as in the wind blew and his smell…" I looked at her. She just shook her head. "Never mind. Forget it. Anyway, so I only saw the back of his head for the whole lesson,"

"And you decided the back of his head was the best looking guy?"

"No!" She said, exasperated. "If you don't shut up, I won't tell you."

I know I seemed like I couldn't care less, but this was actually quite interesting. Okay, she doesn't call every guy 'the best looking', just a few. And I must admit, the ones I have seen are good looking. I really did want to know.

I shut up.

"Okay, so when the bell went he stood up and when I went to stand I knocked all my books off the table."

That didn't sound like Alice at all. That sounded like something I would do.

"Did you do it on purpose?" She went red. I took that as a yes.

"Yeah, so he turned around and helped me pick up my books. His eyes…" She sighed wistfully. I had never seen her this… infatuated before.

Sure, there have been lots of guys. But they have just been one night stands and then possibly friends afterwards. But the twinkle in her eyes told me something different, but I couldn't quite place it.

"And he said 'Hey, um.' It was so cute! And then he was all like 'You okay?' And I doubt I could have spoken so I just nodded then he winked and left!" She looked at me expectantly. I stared at her.

"And…" I prompted.

I couldn't believe she was this crazy over a guy who had said no more than five words to her. I didn't believe he was as good looking as she was saying, either. I mean, what are the chances a totally hot guy joins an English lit class in the centre of term?

I guess Alice didn't have the best taste in men, anyway. There was one guy so horrific I couldn't look at him for long in fear of being turned into stone.

"And… what do you mean and? Did you not hear anything I just said?" I resisted the urge to shake my head viciously. "He's the one. He's the one, Bell!"

"What?! Seriously?" I couldn't believe what I had just heard.

No guy was ever 'the one' with Alice. We got close a few times, but never… she said it just didn't feel right.

"What so… no more dating? No more drinking and no more partying? No more one night stands?"

"Ha!" I knew it was coming. "As if. Do you not know me at all?" I don't know this Alice, no. I don't know any Alice that says he is the one after a few words and a lot of embarrassment. "No more dating, that's for sure. I don't want him thinking I'm a whore."

"You are."

"I resent that." I just 'hmm'ed in reply. Of course she resented that. "And no more one night stands, of course. That goes under the heading of whore."

"But you are a whore."

"Shut up."

In my world, a whore is someone exactly like Alice. I didn't mean it in a horrible way at all, because she wouldn't be Alice if she didn't go out on Saturdays. But I bet if I looked in the dictionary and found whore, Alice would match the description. It's just the way of life.

"I need you to help me get him."

I could have fallen to my knees when mum interrupted us. I hate participating in Alice's schemes, because I always end up worse off. Sure, there was nothing I wouldn't do for Alice, but still…

Alice looked at me. Her face told me that I wasn't off the hook. Yet.

"Girls, do you want a pizza?"

The best way to distract Alice is with food. Any food and she's there. She can smell pizza a mile off. She nodded at mum, a huge smile on her face. I just rolled my eyes and followed mum into the kitchen, leaving Alice sitting on the sofa.

I picked up the menu, scanning through it. I already knew what I was having anyway, but I made a habit of looking at the menu anyway.

Every first Friday of the month we have a takeaway. Mum calls it a treat, but I don't understand. Why would something so fattening be a treat? I don't question it though, in fear of loosing out every month for being cheeky.

I get annoyed at mum sometimes. She always treats me like a child. I'm sure I would be fine on my own, if push comes to shove. I would be fine. I can be responsible. I can. Mum just doesn't let me. I guess it's the mothering instinct or something. It's annoying, whatever it is.

I decided what order I am going to do everything today, and I will start tomorrow. Tomorrow will be my 'yes day'. Whatever it is, I have to say yes. That scares me a little, because Alice will be spending half of her day with me. That's why I'm not going to tell her about my 'yes day' because if she knew she will make me do really embarrassing things. Maybe that's a good thing. I'm not quite sure.

And I will look on the internet tomorrow – if I can get it to work – and try to find a concert I could go to. I want to go on my own, but there are two problems with that.

One: Mum will make me take Alice. It's because she doesn't trust me to look after myself, but I would probably be better off without Alice. She will just get drunk or something similar. But I'm used to it. I bet by the end of the night it will be me looking after her, not the other way round.

Two: Alice will insist on coming. If I say she can't, she will tell mum, resulting in previous outcome, or she will follow me. So really I'm in a lose-lose situation.

I don't care who I go to see. I just want to get the feeling of everyone listening to the same music at the same time. I want to feel as if I belong somewhere.

Then I will go clubbing with Alice. I will dance to crappy music and flirt with equally crappy guys and laugh fake laughs and dress up in clothes that hardly cover my ass and then I will have sex. I will let Alice introduce me to people because some of the people she hangs out with are actually quite nice. Or so I have been told.

After that I will visit dad. I won't take Alice because she is irresponsible. I will get a train on my own. I don't want mum to come, but she probably will anyway. She will wait outside of the cemetery, though. She can't stand to look at all the grave stones. They freak her out.

While I'm there, after I have visited dad, I will get lost. I want to be gone for hours and I want mum to panic. I want her to call the police to come and find me. That's three in one day: visit dad, get lost and be found. I think it's pretty clever.

I don't know what I'm going to do after that.

Before I visit dad, I want to meet the boy next door properly. I want to know what colour his eyes are, how tall he is and what music he listens to. I want him to find me annoying. I want him to be the one to slap me, just so I can slap him back. I want to see a red mark on his face, and have the satisfaction of knowing that I put it there.

**End Chapter.**

**Authors note; **Yeah, I know.

Love y'all. I don't mind if you review or not, 'cause I know you're reading it anyways and that's all that matters. But, saying that, who doesn't love reviews?


	11. Chapter 11

**Authors note; **HI. IT'S SHORT AND I LOVE YOU.

**Song; **Fences, Paramore.

**Disclaiming; **yeah.

**I Wish**

_Eight_

_I Hate Numbers. And Math. And Everything._

Every number seems to relate to something. I can think of any number in the world and it will relate to something that has happened to me.

Three: the number of times I sneezed yesterday.

Twelve: Dad's shoe size. Dad was huge. He was so tall that when I was five I used to think he was a giant. When he put me on his shoulders I thought I was taller than the mountains. If I put a pair of my shoes next to a pair of his it would look funny. My shoes are half the size of his.

Sixty one: How old Gran was when she died.

Gran wasn't particularly ill or anything. Mum always told me she died of old age but sixty one isn't old, really. I always thought that if you don't live 'till you're a hundred, then you haven't looked after yourself properly. I mean, there is no reason for you not to live until you're a hundred. Gran just… died. I think she was depressed. She died just a few weeks after dad died. I can't even begin to imagine what its like to loose a son. Mum rolls her eyes when I suggest Gran was depressed.

I think she died of a broken heart.

Forty three: The amount of hours I used to think there was in a day. When I was eight I was convinced that there was no way there could be only twenty four hours in a day. I had no sense of time. Still don't.

Two hundred and twenty four: The amount of pages I want in the book I will write.

Two million and eleven: The amount of money I want to make from my book.

Seventy eight: The amount of money it will cost to have a ticket to go to a concert in London. And that's just one ticket. I have no idea where I'm going to get the money from…

Seventy eight: The amount of money I will earn from a job I will get to pay for my concert ticket.


End file.
